


The Psychological Advantage

by Barb Cummings (Rahirah)



Series: The Barbverse [33]
Category: Buffy the Vampire Slayer
Genre: Angst, F/M, Fluff, Humor
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-12-01
Updated: 2012-12-01
Packaged: 2017-11-20 00:38:57
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 542
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/579383
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Rahirah/pseuds/Barb%20Cummings
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Buffy and Sam spar.  Spike and Riley watch.</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Psychological Advantage

**Author's Note:**

> This story takes place in the same universe as "Raising In the Sun," "Necessary Evils," and "A Parliament of Monsters."

Buffy somersaulted over her sparring partner's head, nailing a perfect three-point landing on the mat. Sam Finn spun to face her, a minute late and a dollar short - Buffy'd already dropped, kicked, and catapulted across the training room again. Sam's right leg went out from under her, but she turned her fall into a tumble and rolled to her feet, grinning as she whipped the fall of dark hair from her eyes. Down, maybe, but far from out. Watching from the sidelines, Riley frowned. Strike and feint, dodge and roll - Buffy was holding back, as she always did with a human sparring partner. He could tell; he'd seen what she could really do often enough. He wondered if Sam could, and if it bothered her. 

Spike, lazing against the pommel horse beside him, smirked and whispered, "Now that's entertainment, eh, Finn?"

Riley gave a noncommital grunt. They might be allies in name these days, but that didn't mean he had to make small talk. Tactical error - Spike's indolent gaze sharpened, and his nostrils twitched, scenting metaphorical blood. "What's the matter, mate? John Thomas shriveling up as you watch?"

To be fair to Spike, this was probably the vampire equivalent of friendly banter. But Riley had no particular urge to be fair to Spike. It had never been about Buffy being stronger than he was. Or not much, anyway. "What's with the sudden interest in my junk?"

"Plenty of blokes're too insecure get it up with a bird who can thrash them," the vampire allowed with cheerful malice. "Hear there's a pill for it now. Lucky for Buffy, yours truly's not so handicapped."

_You wouldn't be trying so hard to get my goat if you weren't jealous, you undead asshole._ Probably true, but it didn't make Spike's gibes any less annoying. "That's because you're a twisted, masochistic fuck who gets off on being beaten down," Riley snapped, and instantly regretted it. This was a game where losing your temper inevitably meant that Spike won.

Spike chuckled. "You say that like it's a bad thing. But you're wrong. I'm a twisted, masochistic fuck who gets off on the fact she's strong enough to beat me down. Big difference." He straightened, coming off the pommel horse with lithe, inhuman grace, and nodded in the direction of the mat, where Buffy and Sam had wrapped up the match and were shaking hands. "One you'd do well to keep in mind. You haven't precisely married a fainting flower." He turned back towards the combatants, shouting to Buffy. "Oi, love! Save the last dance for me?" 

Buffy waved hm over, and Riley snorted. "Sam's taken me a few times, you know. But when I beat her, I know she's not _letting_ me win."

The vampire's smug grin widened. "Ah? You're sure about that, are you?" 

And he was off, with a spring in his step and probably a goddamn song in his heart. Sam took the towel he offered her and wiped the sweat from her forehead. She prodded her new bruises ruefully. "Ow. That was something. Man, your old girlfriend sure doesn't pull her punches."

Riley glanced back at the mat, where Buffy and Spike were facing off with expressions of mutual relish. "I wish."

 

**The End**


End file.
